


[Stargate SG-1 ficlets and drabbles]

by aces



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 16:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20642444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces/pseuds/aces
Summary: Variety of short fics, drabbles, etc. gathered in one place so I'm not creating dozens of unnecessary fics. :)





	1. 5 times Daniel was scary

1\. When he completely shot up the vat of larval Goa'uld. Sam was the only witness, and she wasn't scared, but she was pretty unnerved by an act she would not have expected from this guy that she was only starting to get to know.  
2\. When a subordinate used Budge to translate some Goa'uld hieroglyphics. Then he was really scary.  
3\. The first time he kicked Jack's ass in a sparring match. Jack thought seriously about retirement then. (Thank God nobody else was in the gym at the time to watch.)  
4\. At five a.m. after pulling an all-nighter working on a translation, or trying to figure out some particular aspect of a culture, because another team was in danger, and finally making a breakthrough. Caffeine- and adrenaline-fueled, his hair standing out in all directions (in the old days at least, when it was long), exploding into Jack's office or the briefing room and talking, almost literally, a hundred miles a minute. If Jack wasn't scared, he was certainly a little overawed. Not that he would ever tell Daniel that.  
5\. They all saw the security footage of him talking to Apophis in the infirmary, telling the dying Goa'uld he knew what had happened to Apophis' son. And Sam at least was reminded all over again of those larval Goa'uld.


	2. 5 things in Sam's luggage

1\. Fishing lures. Just a couple of them, tucked away neatly in a little plastic baggie. Sam could easily picture the general shrugging and telling her with a half-smile, "Just in case."  
2\. Teal'c put one of his old trashy tabloids in, one that had the headline "ALIENS?" splashed across the front page, discussing the "bright lights in the sky" incident from, oh, that first time they saved the planet. _Things are not always what they seem, except when they are_ he had written on a scrap of paper he'd inserted in the tabloid.  
3\. Only Daniel would have left the small cloth bound journal and very nice pen. He wrote on the first page of the journal, just a note wishing her well and thanking her for being a good friend through the years. He ended by reminding her she _would_ get paid.  
4\. Cam found her a Walkman, and a cassette of '80s music. She actually contacted him about it, after she was on Atlantis, and he just laughed and said, "Everything you wanted to forget about the decade but couldn't, on one tape."  
5\. Condoms. Definitely Vala's contribution.


	3. Jack in D.C.

_Dear Daniel,_

_You should come to DC. I think you'd like it here. There's a whole new language for you to learn. It's called politics. Then again, you might already know this one. That's what academics do, right?_

_Yeah, Daniel. You should come.  
-J_

*

_Dear Daniel,_

_Wish you were here. Wish I weren't. But if I weren't, I wouldn't wish you here._

_D'oh.  
-J_

*

_Dear Daniel,_

_Remember how we used to fight the Goa'uld? Apophis would come back from the dead as often as you, and Ba'al would throw in a little torture, and I'd make Yu jokes just to make Carter wince?_

_I miss those times.  
-J_

*

_Dear Daniel,_

_Okay, fine. What say I meet you on Atlantis? I'll call it vacation time. If there's a Wraith attack, all the better._

_Jack_


	4. 5 people to whom T sent Valentines

1\. Sam Carter. His first year experiencing the holiday, he sent her one of those cartoony little cards with a piece of candy like a third-grader would. She laughed, and it might have been the first time she gave him a hug.  
2\. Janet Fraiser. A couple years later, when he found one that made a joke about doctors and nurses and he mostly understood the punchline. Janet stalked up to him in the commissary waving it at him, and he stood up with some trepidation and wondered if this was how O'Neill sometimes felt, and then she stood on a chair next to him and pecked him on the cheek. The entire cafeteria cheered.  
3\. Ishta. She didn't understand the significance and was still suspicious after he explained the holiday's meaning on Earth.  
4\. Vala Mal Doran. She didn't understand it at first either, but once he started explaining--and she did some research on her own--it instantly became her favorite holiday. And an excuse for her to wear red for a week after taking Colonel Carter shopping.  
5\. Cameron Mitchell. The colonel guffawed a lot, until he realized Teal'c meant it somewhat seriously, and then he started smirking for entirely different reasons.


	5. 5 fun things Daniel and Jack finally made time to do together that went well

1\. Okay, so the fishing wasn’t _bad_, once Daniel realized that it was perfectly acceptable to lay the baseball cap over his face and snooze while Jack drank all the beer. (Just, three days straight of the same thing? Never again.)  
2\. _Golf_. Daniel—as he has told Jack numerous times—always _hated_ golf. But then, watching Jack flail with the clubs when a shot goes wide makes up for a lot of the boredom in between.  
3\. This was actually all Teal’c’s fault. They had a Saturday afternoon free, Sam was off doing something with Pete, and Teal’c suggested jell-o wrestling. Jack got a little fixated. Daniel managed to enjoy himself by pondering what sort of social norms could possibly be involved in participating in and enjoying watching jell-o wrestling. He made a note to ask Teal’c about it sometime when the Jaffa wasn’t so distracted.  
4\. Jack taught Daniel how to use a pottery wheel. While Daniel thinks it’s pretty weird that Jack of all people knows how to use one, he also finds it very relaxing so he doesn’t pry.  
5\. There is the sex, of course. Daniel especially likes groping in the elevator going down from Jack’s D.C. office late at night after almost everyone else has cleared out of the building. Jack…kinda actually likes Daniel liking it.


	6. grieving Daniel

Daniel remembers.

No place for them now, no physical space, so he has to make one up. But this, this is no problem, because he has been recreating and making up physical spaces inside his head for most of his life. This one is just a little more recent than many.

Daniel has respect for other people’s rituals but none of his own, not usually. Daniel has kept an academic distance, noting only the power of rituals on others, the importance and significance and meaning.

Daniel takes care to remember.

The proper places have been blown away, not even a cloud of dust to mark the spot where X once was, so he finds substitute spaces, temporary places, a pitiful beach that is no true substitute for the desert by a grey lake that is no oasis, no safe haven, not important.

He sits in the rocky sand and runs his hands through it and feels there should be something more for him to do. Light a candle, bury some token or totem, get raving drunk on cheap beer. In all these years, he has never found something—adequate. He has never found anything adequate to symbolically deal with loss.

Even when he does not act like it, Daniel remembers.

Life gets in the way of grieving. Life gets in the way of punishment, and atonement, and penance. Life gets in the way, and suddenly it’s six years down the line since you last kissed your wife good-bye and you’ve been and died and shot and lived, and there is no turning back.

But there are days. When you remember.

Even when he does not act like it, Daniel remembers.

“Daniel?”

Jack stands behind him, patient in the way he could never be offworld. This, this is no offworld, this is no Abydos, this is no X where the spot once marked home, and Daniel has no candles. Jack probably has beer, though.

Jack has never offered this place since Abydos disappeared into a non-speck of dust, of sand. Jack has never offered this space since Daniel came back to life (again) and relearned that Abydos no longer was, that Skaara and Kasuf and Sha’re’s body no longer were, no longer in any spatial dimensions that Daniel could access.

Jack has never offered, and Daniel has never accepted, and if they end up here for a few days each year, so be it.

“Coming, Jack,” Daniel says, and trickles sand through his fingers, and takes care to remember.


	7. autumn nights

When Jack finally left the mountain and all its mountains of paperwork behind, it was already dark. Of course, it’d been getting dark earlier and earlier each night, an inexorable creeping up of the night hours, but it was still always a surprise for Jack when he glanced at his watch and saw it only read eight by the light of the parking lot streetlamp.

He paused by his truck, breathing in deeply and glancing reflexively up at the sky. Stars out. He jumped in and glanced at the clock as he turned the ignition. It was still only eight o’clock. Sure he was exhausted and he had to be back at the mountain by seven tomorrow morning for another round of meetings and paperwork and fending off the long-suffering Walter, but he felt like he hadn’t left the inside of that mountain in years and sometimes it was a little suffocating.

He drove home quickly, put something in the microwave for dinner, opened a beer, changed into sweats, and took his food and drink up to the roof. He viewed the sky through the telescope for a while, but tonight he was more interested simply in lying back and looking without technological help.

The beer warmed him even as the wind cooled him, and the stars paid him no heed. The street was silent; Jack imagined kids working on homework or asleep by now, parents watching television, people conducting their lives peacefully indoors with windows closed to keep out the cold. Leaves from the tree hovering over his house fell to the roof, scraped across it, bumped into his deck chair. Maybe he’d try to get to the cabin this weekend, damn all the consequences, and see how the lake looked covered in leaves of gold, red, orange, brown.

He took another deep breath and thought he could smell burning leaves somewhere, overlaying that smell he simply and had always associated with late September and October nighttime. He supposed Daniel had actual adjectives to describe the scent, and he supposed Carter had a formula to go along with those adjectives. He wondered if Teal’c noticed the differences of late September and October nighttime from the whole rest of the year on Earth. He hoped the ex-First Prime did.

Jack sank back further into his seat and breathed deeply, looking up at the cold night sky a little longer before allowing his eyes to close lightly.

Autumn had always been his favorite time of year.


	8. [Daniel is a sloppy drunk]

Deep breath, quick look around—but everyone is hanging around the grill and picnic tables, everyone is exactly where they’re supposed to be, everyone is too wrapped up in having a good, relaxing time to pay you any attention, and you know you’ve drunk too much beer and you know you’re feeling just a little reckless, just a little mischievous, and this is your chance.

Expel the breath, slide the glass door closed, slip through the kitchen quickly with a stealth born of strange years learning to manipulate your body in ways you never even thought about applying when wriggling into tight corners on digs. He isn’t here, so you continue through the house, past the living room, past the bathroom.

Enter the bedroom and there he is, pulling on another t-shirt over his jeans. The last t-shirt got splattered with beer. You know, because you were the one who splattered it. Everyone laughed, even him, though he sternly lectured you about beer intake and you just gave him an innocent, “who, me?” look, and everyone laughed again. 

His back to you, does he even know you’re here? Glide up to him, slip a hand in his left back jeans pocket and whisper, “Hi” in his right ear, just to make sure he does know. You’ve been dying to do this all day, since you arrived at his house and saw him playing with the grill in the back yard, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. You haven’t seen him in jeans and a t-shirt in months. You haven’t seen him outside the mountain in months.

He knew you were there alright. Doesn’t flinch, doesn’t throw you across the room, just this slow smirk across his thin lips, tiny little smile that isn’t important so much on his lips as it is in his warm brown eyes as he turns his face to you and says obligingly, “Hiii?”

You grin back, and if you were a cartoon surely your teeth would be sparkling at him right now. And the beer’s still buzzing, and you’re still feeling reckless as you turn to face him, hand sliding out of pocket with a delicious sort of languidness. “Hi,” you say again, still with that stupid little grin on your face.

And he’s grinning back, full-fledged grin now, and you know he’s laughing at you but you don’t really care because you’re laughing at you too. He hooks his fingers in your belt loops on your jeans, resting them there comfortably. “Having fun?” he asks you agreeably.

You nod, perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm judging by the way your head feels like it could now roll off your neck with just a little extra nudge. “Lots,” you tell him, and lick your lips. “Could have more fun, though.”

“Guests,” he says succinctly—he’s very good at that, paring issues down to their barest essentials, while you have a tendency to blather and digress. Then again, you’re good at succinct too, when he’s around.

“Don’t care.”

See? Very succinct. Laconic, even. He should reward you for that.

“Party can’t go on without us forever,” he points out, but he still hasn’t removed his fingers from your belt loops, and this gives you hope. “People will start to wonder.”

This gives you pause, and you think. You don’t really want people wondering, and wandering in, and looking around. Not so much because you don’t want people finding you as you simply don’t want to be interrupted. “Later?” you ask, and lick your lips again. 

You can be patient. You can be very patient. Good things come to those who wait, and all that.

He watches you lick your lips, and then he tugs you forward by your belt loops to give you a kiss that is somehow economical and highly satisfying at the same time. “Later,” he tells you, and there’s that tiny little promising smirk again as he turns to leave the bedroom and go back out to his back yard and grill and picnic tables and guests.

Oh yes. The wait will definitely be worth it.


	9. Jonas, just Jonas

“Jonas,” he answers for himself on the telephone. He feels awkward without a title—even Doctor Jackson had the “Doctor” to proclaim to the entire world, while he is left only with the “Mister” in front of “Quinn” if someone feels it necessary to be polite. He had a title once, something pretentious and bureaucratic that he usually tried to ignore out of embarrassment, but he renounced that the day he slipped as unobtrusively through the Stargate as is possible with a supply of naquadriah in your shaking hands. 

Of course he’s not the only one who’s lost all stature. Another kinship between himself and Teal’c.

So he is only Jonas, and on those odd occasions perhaps “Mister Quinn,” but he makes it a point of trying to avoid those odd occasions. Doctor Jackson was apparently Doctor Jackson to everyone bar his team, but no-one bothers with formalities with Jonas. He’s not sure if he should feel grateful for that casualness or wish he could somehow obtain himself a title, a salutation, so as to fit in a little better. 

He is only ever Jonas. Colonel O’Neill (who will probably always be Colonel O’Neill because there’s no-one left these days to call him Jack and remind him that he is also a Jack, and perhaps after a long enough time everyone will forget the colonel has a first name, including the colonel himself) has nicknames, pet names, for everyone—Dorothy, T, The Airman Who Stands in the Back of the Gateroom on Weekends, George if he’s feeling reckless, but Jonas is always Jonas. Which Jonas doesn’t mind, because he always has to wince slightly when he hears someone barking out “Quinn!” and he really can’t imagine O’Neill having anything good for him in the nickname department. And apparently even the “JonasQuinn” matter with Teal’c is utterly normal, judging by all the MajorCarters and GeneralHammonds sprinkled in Teal’c’s conversations. Though Jonas does find it interesting that O’Neill is simply O’Neill—denoting equality? Denoting inferiority? Jonas can’t decide.

Jonas isn’t yet comfortable dropping everyone else’s titles; they’re still Dr Fraiser and Major Carter and Sgt Siler. He wishes sometimes he could, because he rather likes the name Sam and she’s been one of the few people who’s simply accepted him, accepted him so naturally that sometimes he forgets and is surprised he hasn’t always been working with her, but some remnant of the etiquette from home and some innate politeness holds him back. So she remains Major Carter and he remains, simply, Jonas.


	10. Splish splash I was taking a bath

Splish. Splash.

Daniel paused at the door, listening, fighting down worry. Splish. Splash. No sound bar the lapping of miniscule waves.

He was just about to knock when he heard something else. A strange, reedy sound that sent convulsive chills throughout Daniel’s body. It was well-nigh unearthly.

“Rubber duckie, you’re the one…”

Jack was singing.

“You make bath time lots of fun…”

Daniel opened the door without knocking. The singing immediately ceased.

“Jack.”

“Daniel.”

Daniel blinked. Jack quirked eyebrows.

“Just checking,” Daniel said and shut the door. He walked away quickly.

The scariest part was Jack didn’t even have a rubber duckie.   
~~~~~


	11. Why You Should Never Wake a Non-Early-Rising Linguist Too Early in the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (aka: The story that's probably actually shorter and more easily said than the title.)

"Hypotenuse," he said obscurely, a vague frown sketching itself across his features as he searched for and failed to find the actual word he wanted, his mouth instead supplying that rather unexpected term. Jack frowned as well, eyes never leaving the road.

"Hypothesis?" he added a moment later, a small, treacherous grin cracking his lips open. He started to giggle, quietly and fitfully at first, but the laugh soon grew. Exponentially.

"Daniel!" Jack snapped at last over the loud chortles and deep guffaws, still without looking away from his driving. "If you don't calm down this minute, I'm taking you back home and putting you back in bed. Or handing you over to Doc Fraiser." 

The laughter quickly subsided, though a tiny little grin remained suspiciously lurking in the vicinity of Daniel Jackson's mouth. Silence reigned serenely in the car.

"Hippodrome?" a small voice asked after two seconds, before dissolving into convulsive giggles once more.

"I am never waking you for an 0700 briefing again," Jack groaned.  
~~~~~


End file.
